I nod, turning back to look at Cat. Her hair flows in soft waves down her back, rich and glossy. “I want to make her happy.”
“That’s what I want for her too.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“I’ll do my best.” What else can I do?
“I hope so.” He tosses me a glance. “Try not to fuck her over.”
“Understood.” I assess her, debating whether I should go to her or wait for her to come to me. I decide to wait.
Gwen picks that moment to move behind the bar and yell, “Okay, we’re all here, so we can start the drinking.”
I smile at the clapping.
“Everyone take a seat.” There’s a spot next to me at the bar, but when I turn to look over my shoulder, Cat has parked herself with Gwen’s sisters and Jillian and Leo.
That won’t do at all.
I stand, walking in her direction.
Her gaze catches mine and stalls.
When I reach the circle, I crook my finger. “You come sit next to me, Catarina.”
She rolls her eyes, but she can’t quite hide the flash of something I choose to take as excitement.
She shakes her head. “I like it here.” She leans into the highbacked leather chair. “More comfortable.” She smiles, way too sweetly. “But thank you.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Are you determined to be difficult?”
“I’m determined to be comfortable.” Another sweet smirk flirts over her lips.
Of course, everyone is watching us with interest. I contemplate my options.
I could grandstand.
I could pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and cause a big scene.
I could go sit back down at the bar and spend the night without the pleasure of her company.
Or, I could slide right in next to her.
I nod. “Fair ’nough.”
She narrows her gaze, and her fingers tighten on the chair.
I walk over, pick up an empty seat, and swing it to rest beside her, plopping myself down. I smile. “You win.”
“Do I?” Her fingers relax, confirming she’s happy I stayed.
“You’ll have to judge for yourself.” I raise a brow. “But I think we’re off to a good start.
18
Cat
After a long night full of alcohol, good food, and laughter, I’m leaning lazily against the porch column. Somewhere along the way I’ve lost my shoes, and Caden towers over me, all seductive.
I rest my head against the white wood and smile. “That turned out to be more fun than I expected.”
He steps closer, putting a palm on the column right next to my head. “It was fun.” His head dips. “How you feeling, Cat?”
“I’m feeling quite fine.” And I am. I’m the most pleasant kind of drunk—where the world is warm and rosy and anything bad seems a million miles away. I put my hands behind my back, forcing my body forward. “How about you?”
“Can’t complain.”
That low Louisiana drawl I’ve heard my entire life somehow sounds just a little different on him. A little better. Hotter.
I lick my lower lip, and he tracks my movements. “Does anyone ever call you Cade?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“How come?”
He shrugs. “Nobody ever asked.”
My lashes flutter as I look up at him. “Can I call you Cade?”
“Nope.”
My brow pulls. “Why not? You call me Catarina when nobody else does.”
“I like the way Caden falls from your lips.” He leans a little closer. “And I like how your eyes flash silver when I call you Catarina.”
“They do?” I’m hot all over, and I want him so bad.
“They do.” His tongue darts against my lips, soft like a butterfly. “I’ve never met a woman with silver eyes before.”
“My daddy had them. Wyatt and I take after him.” I scrape my teeth over my mouth, which feels swollen and ready. “Jackson takes after our mom.”
“Is that so?”
I nod, falling silent. My gaze meets his.
“Is tonight the night?” he asks, reaching up and twining a big hand around my neck.
“The night for what?” Goose bumps pebble across my skin.
“The night you say yes?”
Again, he seems to be waiting for something, but I don’t know what it is. “Haven’t I been saying yes all along?”
“Not quite.”
I laugh softly, and it floats away with the wind. “What? Do you want me to beg?”
“Not exactly.” A smirk flashes over his too-handsome features. “Although begging never hurts.”
I shake my head. “You’re the worst.”
“I am.”
My nails flex against the column, when all I want to do is reach for him.
His head dips low, and he whispers in my ear. “What do you want, Catarina?”
All I have to say is you, and he’ll take care of the rest. Just one little word. But it will not come, regardless of how much I want to say it.
I bite my lower lip. “I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.” His gaze dips to my mouth, and he brushes his lips against mine. “Sleep well.”
And just like that, he’s gone, disappearing from the lights of the house into the darkness.
With a sigh, I head in and climb the stairs. When I get to my room, I flop backward on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Frustration is like an irritant against my skin.
What is wrong with me?
As I blink at the ceiling, my body aching with wanting him, it hits me.
I’m afraid.
It’s not stubbornness.
Or pride, like I thought.
It’s not about not wanting to be the one to give in.
It’s fear.
Caden Landry scares me.
He’s the first thing that’s threatened my contained little world in as long as I can remember. All this time, I’ve cocooned myself, isolated from life and risk, but also from reward.
After spending the majority of my childhood feeling one step away from disaster, I found a way to feel safe and never ventured out.
I finally understand what Caden is waiting for.
He’s not being arrogant, or wanting to rub my desire for him in my face.
He’s waiting for me to take that risk—not just on him, but on life. He’s waiting for me to step out of the warm, snug safety of my constraints and leap.
Certainty flows through me, replacing my agitation. I’m right.
This is what he wants.
I turn my head to stare at the double doors that lead to my balcony and face Caden’s cottage. I understand, and now I have to figure out what to do about it.
Is clinging to security who I want to be?
Or do I want to be something else—someone else?
Someone who doesn’t let fear stop her. I used to be like that. Wyatt and Jackson always talk about it, but their words are separate from me—belonging to a younger girl, another time and place. Not me.
But could I be?
Again?
I calm my breathing.
Yes, I think I could. Or at least tonight I want to try.
I sit up, rest my palms on the bed, and look at the balcony. I could go outside and beckon him over. I’m almost positive he’s on the porch, waiting in those dark shadows to see if I’ll finally say yes.
But I don’t want to do that.
I want to go to him.
I stand, creep down the stairs, and go out the front door.
Barefoot, I walk across the lawn, and the wind blows in my hair, whipping across my cheeks. The night air is hot, humid, and sticky, the grass damp against my feet. I envision him watching me walk through the emptiness, looking like Cathy on the moors in Wuthering Heights.
My heart is pounding, my skin flushed, but I don’t let it stop me.
And finally, I see him sitting on the rocking chair my granddaddy made a million years
ago.
I step onto the porch, breathless. “Hi.”
He gives me a long look. “You look mighty pretty in the moonlight.”
I walk over to him, coming to stand tall and proud before him. “Ask me again.”
His eyes darken, and he rocks gently in the chair. “What do you want, Catarina?”
I step forward, lean down, and whisper, “You.”
Then I kiss him, and hide absolutely nothing.
My mouth clings to his, and he wraps his hand around the nape of my neck, tugging me closer.
The chair is narrow, but I manage to slide on top, my dress riding high on my thighs as I straddle him. His free hand settles onto my hip, squeezing gently as our tongues tangle.
I tilt my head, deepening the contact.
It feels exactly right, exactly how I envisioned it. I don’t feel like I’m losing anything, but instead, gaining something I didn’t know was missing.
I trace the line of his jaw, letting the pads of my fingers smooth over the rough planes of his face. His mouth moves over mine.
Our breathing becomes hot, ragged.
My body strains, wanting to be closer.
I blot everything out—the folly of my actions, tomorrow, the repercussions of this act. Everything.
Instead, I sink into him.
His arm tightens around my hip, and the chair rocks, creaking under our weight and hurried movements.
I trail my fingers down the cords of his neck, over his broad shoulders, down the hardness of his chest to snake under his T-shirt and touch his skin.
Warm, smooth skin that feels like heaven.
His muscles flex under my fingers, like I’m tickling him.
He groans, ripping his mouth away from mine to whisper, “Let’s go inside.”
Then his arm is under my ass and he’s shifting, lifting us up. My legs swing around his waist as he stands. He walks a few steps, and my back slams against the door as he fumbles with the handle.
Our lips meet, hard and scorching.
So perfect.
The door swings open, and without losing contact, we’re inside.
I can’t pay attention to the surroundings, or see what he’s done to make the cabin his own, because I’m consumed with my pent-up lust, and all I can think about is his mouth on mine, the press of his body, the strong arms holding me, and how he will finally be inside me.
He stops, and I’m tossed onto the bed.
I bounce on the mattress, blinking up at him for one second before he’s on top of me. I swear I’ve never felt anything as good as him covering me—hot and safe, all at the same time.
Against my lips he says, “I want you so much, Catarina.”
“I want you too.” I arch.
His strong thigh slides between my legs, stopped by the fabric of my dress. But before I can protest, his palm covers my thigh, pushing the hem up my body. He leans back, resting on his calves as he looks down at me.
He shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
My lashes flutter as I look up at him. He looks beautiful above me, strong and rugged. The lines of his face are harsh against the backdrop of the full moon pooling through the window and onto the bed.
I lick my lower lip. “You mean you don’t know?”
He chuckles, smoothing his hands over my waist. “Oh, I do.” He reaches for the hem of my dress. “Lift up.”
My hips rise, and he pulls the fabric over my body before tossing it to the floor. He looks down at me. “Beautiful.”
I clench my teeth. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” His fingers trace the edge of my panties, lacy and black. “It’s true.”
“Don’t ruin it by being nice.” The words leave my lips before I can stop them.
His eyes meet mine. “Catarina, I can be nice and cruel all at the same time.”
My legs clench, and my back bows in response.
He walks a path over my stomach, playing across my ribs before brushing the curve of my breasts. “I know how much you like that.” With one hand he unhooks the clasp of my bra. “I’ve never seen you stretched out like this; I want to look at you.”
I shake my head. “I just want you to take me.”
“Now, what would be the fun in that?” One big hand lands on the bed next to my head, and he’s looming over me, blocking out most of the light. He leans down and licks one nipple, then the other. The dampness combines with the air and cools my skin, puckering the flesh.
He brushes his mouth over mine. “Don’t confuse my patience with lack of desire.”
I swallow hard. “I’ll try.”
“I want you more than you can possibly know.” Again he kisses me. “But I want to drive you crazy more.”
“You do.” I touch his cheek. “I can’t resist you.”
“I know you can’t.” His tongue flicks over the seam of my lips. “I adore that about you.”
“Oh yeah?” My breath comes out like a pant.
“Yeah.” He shifts, reaching to stroke the silky fabric between my legs. “I want you out of your mind before I claim you for my own.”
I arch into his touch. “Do your worst.”
“Now that…” He kisses me. “…is a dangerous statement to make.”
He shifts, moving lower, taking my nipple into his mouth and sucking. The sensation sends electricity racing through me. He tortures me, laving and licking and tugging with teeth, before he moves to deliver the same treatment to my other breast.
My eyes close, and I tangle my fingers in his short hair, keeping him close.
On and on it goes, until I think I’ll go absolutely mad. I moan his name, digging my nails into his skin, whispering a nonsensical, urgent plea.
All I want is for him to take me. I want his cock inside me—moving and thrusting and giving me what I’ve been desperate for since the moment I laid eyes on him.
But he keeps going, amusing himself with my breasts like they’re his own personal playground.
I rock up off the bed. “Caden.”
He licks one peaked tip. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Then he begins again, and it’s heaven and hell all mixed together. Lust pounds through my veins, thick and demanding. My hips tilt. Rising. Seeking friction.
The bed creaks under my restless movements.
He blows a breath against my skin. “I like you like this. All eager and at my mercy. Maybe I should keep you like this for a couple of hours.”
I shake my head. “Please, no.”
In response, he moves down my body, inching farther and farther until his mouth covers the damp lace between my legs. He sucks, his tongue wetting the fabric. It’s a tease, a hint of what his mouth can do.
“More,” I cry.
His mouth is open, covering me but not delivering as his tongue slides up and down the lace. My thighs clamp around his head, urging him on. His only response is to continue the torture.
After a mindless eternity, he moves up my body, licking at my breasts again.
I don’t know how long it goes on, but I know it’s never been like this for me before.
I’ve never had a man take this kind of time.
Never been out of my mind.
Never been so hot and desperate.
I thought I wanted slam-you-up-the-wall passion, like it would prove something to me. But maybe Caden is right, and this is better. Doesn’t this prove far more?
He travels the length of my body, and to my relief, this time he slides my panties down my legs. They join the rest of my clothes on the floor.
I’m completely naked, but he’s still fully clothed.
And I’m suddenly frantic for skin on skin.
His fingers slide over my pussy, gliding without friction, dancing over my clit before moving away. Before I can protest, his lips are on me, and his tongue licks. I raise my hips, not caring how greedy I look as I seek a pressure he refuses to deliver.
His fingers slide inside me and pump once, t
hen twice, before they are gone.
I growl in frustration.
He circles the puckered skin of my ass, making it wet.
I jerk at the contact. Give thought to protesting.
It flitters away when he again pumps inside me, repeating the process over and over.
A trickle slides down the curve of my ass.
His mouth is still nothing but a tease that refuses to push me over the edge.
On the next pass, he pushes inside my ass, twisting as he goes.
It’s as dirty and wrong and shocking as it was the first time.
And just like the first time, it has the same effect.
His mouth is voracious as he inserts another finger, filling me up so I’m tight and stretched. While I’m not sure it feels the best, it morphs in my brain and seeps back out as heightened desire.
Unable to help myself, I start to move, rocking my hips into his face before pushing back on his fingers.
The dual sensation overtakes me, making me crazy.
Mindless.
A slave to my body and to him.
“Oh God, yes.” I cry, my head thrashing against the pillow as my body demands release. “More. Fuck, more.”
I can’t believe the things I’m saying, but I can’t stop them from spilling from my lips.
He groans, and it vibrates through me.
Then he’s twisting and fucking my ass with his fingers as his tongue plays over my wet, aching center.
I’m so close. So, so close.
I’m almost there.
So close.
Close.
My body rocks. Back and forth.
Then he sucks my clit, and just as I’m about to explode, he stops.
“No!” I yell, my body twisting, desperate.
He laughs. “Now you’re ready.”
He sits up and takes his shirt off before unzipping his jeans. With quick, efficient movements he shucks them off and reaches over to pull a condom from the bedside table.
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